Monetize Me
Monetize my word,
Or else its point is dull,
And pokes me, prods me ever toward,
A push without a pull.
Monetize my action,
I ought to spare it of the aught,
To feign the law's ideal attraction,
And idle sold when never bought.
Monetize my thought,
Then I'd be less inclined,
To sip from potions brewed in plot,
To mute my muzzled mind.
Monetize my being,
Perhaps then I'll have a chance,
Of freedom found in guaranteeing,
I've fled my fear of song and dance.
Copyright © B. Joseph Fitzsimons | Year Posted 2022
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